Page 58 of Legacy of the Heirs (The Lost Kingdom Saga #2)

“You do not wish to bathe?” she asked, and Caellum looked back at her, noting the pattern of her curls forming in her damp hair. She made for the bed, the robe tantalising him with a flash of her smooth, bare legs beneath.

“I washed quickly with a cloth. As you said, we must be up early, and I did not want to keep you up.” He smiled, and Sadira bit her lip, glancing at his chest before sliding in beside him.

“That is very considerate.”

“I will blow out the lanterns,” he said, reaching for the one on his side. She placed a hand on his arm.

“Do you mind if we leave one on?” she asked, extinguishing the flame in hers.

Caellum withdrew his arm but did not ask Sadira why as she slid down the headboard further under the sheets.

The robe gaped at her chest. She wore nothing beneath it.

He tried to think of anything but Sadira’s body as he settled in beside her, yet he felt those mesmerising green eyes on him.

He turned on his side and mirrored her position.

Sadira’s golden hair spilled over the pillow, and with a somewhat intoxicated confidence, he slowly reached up to twist it around his fingers, moving with caution.

She did not move away, but her eyes roamed his features.

“Are you sure you could do this for the rest of your life?” She breathed as she pulled the sheets up, shifting closer as she did so. Her shins met his, and he prayed she did not move them back. When they remained, he answered.

“Do what?”

Sadira smiled, reaching for Caellum’s hand resting on his side. Her finger traced small circles on the back of it.

“This—lying next to me every night and waking up to me every morning.” Her eyes were wide and honest when he stared back at her.

“I know I could,” he murmured. His hands twisted in her hair, moving towards her scalp.

“I could, too,” she breathed, and the scent of sweet wine hit him.

She moved her leg, and for a moment, he mourned the distance until she hooked it over his and pulled him closer.

Caellum did not want to make a wrong move or risk ruining what blossomed between them before it even stood a chance.

His hand was tentative as it slipped from hers and travelled under the sheets, resting on the curve of her hip. She pressed her chest closer to him.

He wanted to kiss her, wanted to search every inch of her body but he restrained himself, waiting for Sadira to make the move as a confirmation of what she wanted.

That he was what she wanted. Sadira’s eyes fluttered shut as he splayed his fingers across her hip, the silk thin against her skin.

He tugged it gently to stroke her thigh, and she whimpered.

The beautiful, graceful, powerful, and self-assured woman beside him whimpered at his touch. She deserved everything—more than this.

“I want to kiss you,” he breathed, and Sadira’s mouth parted.

His hand moved to the roots of her hair, gripping it gently to restrain himself, and she groaned.

“But you deserve our first kiss to be a fairytale, a moment befitting you. This bed—this inn—is not deserving of your lips,” he murmured.

The corner of Caellum’s lip lifted as Sadira’s brow furrowed slightly.

She opened her eyes, and he saw himself falling within them.

She trailed her hand up his abdomen, and he clenched her waist with one hand and her hair with the other.

“I need something. I cannot sleep or leave this place without knowing I am yours in some way,” she murmured, while Caellum’s hand grazed down her waist to her thigh.

“That is the wine talking. You deserve more than one night in a tavern,” he said.

She tilted her head back as his hand reached the inside of her thigh.

His mouth moved to plant delicate kisses along her neck, and when she swallowed, he pulled back, meeting her eye.

Sadira watched him through her lashes, desire burning in her gaze.

His hand fluttered closer, waiting for her to say no and take back what she said.

“Caellum, I want this,” she said. His name on his lips gave him all the permission he needed, and his fingers met her skin.

Her mouth fell open, and she dropped her head into his hand, where he gripped her hair again as his fingers slid against her.

He moaned into her neck, continuing his kisses as he pushed into her.

“Is this okay?” he asked against the curve of her collarbone.

“Faster,” she said between breaths, and he obeyed. He obeyed the woman who came into his life when he least wished it, who stood by his side although the throne belonged to her family, who proved every day that she was more than he ever deserved.

“More,” she breathed. She trailed her hand to his fingers, guiding him to where she wanted.

He pushed his thumb against her, willing to do anything she asked.

Gripping him tightly, she arched her back as her breaths quickened and buried her face in his neck.

He held her as she clenched around his fingers.

“Is that good?” he murmured into her hair.

“Yes,” she groaned, and he felt her come undone beside him. His hand slowed as her breathing settled, her face hidden in the crook of his neck. When her hand grazed his length, he grabbed her wrist.

“You need to sleep,” he murmured into her hair, and Sadira withdrew her hand.

“You do not want to?” she asked. He chuckled.

“Trust me, I want to.” He loosened his grip on her hair and began stroking it. “But we have all the time to explore one another.”

Sadira smiled against his neck.

“Are you happy now?” he asked. “That you are leaving Albyn, knowing you are mine?” Sadira grinned.

“Yes, I am happy.”